


Daylight

by silverstarsandroses



Series: Moonlight [5]
Category: Aladdin (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-24 11:37:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20357842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverstarsandroses/pseuds/silverstarsandroses
Summary: "But she had given their love up as lost, forever. She spent the past twenty-four hours languishing in heartbreak, despite her best attempts not to. To have Aladdin here, right in front of here, is nothing short of a miracle.One does not turn away from a miracle."





	1. Candlelight

**Author's Note:**

> Based on my planning, this is going to be the last installment in the moonlight series. Not a hundred percent sure how many chapters this will have (probably in the 3-5 range unless anything gets way too long and unwieldy). Enjoy!

Jasmine stands before a set of gilt double doors. The sounds of the party penetrate through the wood: the plucking of a sitar, the overeager laugh of courtiers desperate to please, and that ineffable excited babble as they wait for the princess’s arrival.

Her future husband is somewhere on the other side of that door. The thought is followed by an immediate sting in her heart, one that takes too long to subside.

Deep breath.

She can get through this.

Dalia steps up beside Jasmine and makes a few last adjustments to her tiara, her hair, her dress. Just little fussy movements that speak more to Dalia’s nerves than Jasmine’s appearance.

“It’s going to be fun,” Dalia assures her. “You’ll like one of them. I know it.”

Jasmine turns and gives her handmaiden a smile, even if she can’t put feeling into it. She wants to say some kind of thanks, but the words are stuck in her throat, and she can feel sorrow burrowing its way into her again.

It’s been one day. She can’t expect herself to be over it in one day, but she had hoped it wouldn’t be this bone-deep sense of loss, either. It’s a physical ache, thinking of having to love another man, or at least pretend to.

All day, she’s been replaying their last night together in her head. The way he’d kissed her, first so gently, and then as if she were the only woman in the world. The feel of his hands as he slipped the ring back of her finger. The look on his face just before he vanished over the side of the balcony.

It’ll hurt less, someday. She hopes.

Dalia steps back, and Jasmine hears a hush fall over the next room.

Another deep breath.

The doors open. A thousand colors and lights bloom on the other side like a technicolor dream. Lights are strung between the columns of the courtyard, candles float in the fountain, and flowers drip from the ceiling. The courtiers are dressed in vibrant reds, blues, greens. Their jewelry glitters like stars in the candlelight.

A momentary hush falls as Jasmine steps forward. Then whispers rise. A ripple of awe spreads through the room. Jasmine ignores it, as she makes her way down the steps, over to her father. She’s not unaccustomed to these reactions. It comes with the territory of being a princess.

The thing she’s not used to is the way she feels as though she’s being sized up. She tries to ignore it as she curtsies to her father, but once she stands beside him and looks around at the guests, it’s impossible to ignore. The eyes of a dozen princes are on her, all of them estimating her value: economically, politically, sexually.

She thinks once more of the way Aladdin turned around last night for one last look at her. His gaze on her had felt like warm sunshine.

Still, though, she must endure these men.

No, not endure, she reminds herself. She has to try to like at least one of them. Her future husband is somewhere in this room, and if she has to marry a prince, it’s in her best interest to do her best to like him.

It’s hard, though. They bow, they compliment her beauty, and they lavish attention on her father, just as she told Aladdin they would. They all ask for a dance, which Jasmine assures them she will grant later in the night. Dalia isn’t even beside her to help her through this. She vanished as Jasmine made her entrance.

In the brief moments between princes, Jasmine tries to breathe. She tries even harder not to let Aladdin fill the empty spaces in the room. She harder she tries to remove him from her heart now, the easier it will be in time.

The last prince walks away, and Jasmine lets out a breath.

Then her eyes land on one of the archways leading into the courtyard, where two people stand.

One of them is Dalia, who’s smiling a little too big while talking very quickly.

The other is Aladdin.

Jasmine’s knees almost buckle. She grabs the back of her father’s chair to steady herself. The breath has been swept from her body, and she half-worries she’s gone crazy. She’s been thinking about him every moment of the past day. Her heartbreak is refusing to be shoved away, and this is how it pays her back.

But Aladdin isn’t a hallucination, and he doesn’t vanish. He looks nervous as he and Dalia walk into the room, and no wonder. He’s dressed in finery, white with gold trim, that blends in perfectly with the nobility in here.

Jasmine has taken several steps forward before she even realizes it. She weaves through the crowd, her focus solely on Aladdin. Some distant part of her mind recognizes that it’s improper for a princess to be so visibly interested in one man, and some part of her recognizes that people – her father, specifically – may ask questions.

But she had given their love up as lost, forever. She spent the past twenty-four hours languishing in heartbreak, despite her best attempts not to. To have Aladdin here, right in front of here, is nothing short of a miracle.

One does not turn away from a miracle.

He sees her when they’re a few yards apart, and Jasmine stops. Her heart is beating too fast. Her palms are sweaty.

Aladdin’s eyes sweep over her, his expression awed and just as disbelieving as Jasmine feels. Then he smiles, that same small smile he used to give her during quiet moments on her balcony.

One smile from him is all it takes. She promised him last night that she would find a way. If he found his way here to her…

“Princess,” he says, holding his hand out.

Jasmine raises her hand to his. It trembles in the air. But Aladdin’s hand is warm, familiar, and sure. Jasmine smiles at the feel of his calloused fingers.

Aladdin half-bows over her hand and kisses the back of it. Goosebumps spread from where his lips touch all the way up Jasmine’s arm and down her spine. She thinks she lets out a small gasp when he does.

“You did tell me not to bow like everyone else,” he says, with a cheeky grin.

Jasmine can only stare. At the last second, as she pulls her hand away, she remembers to curtsy to him. She starts to say, “Ala –”

“Ali, my cousin!” Dalia interjects. “I promised I would introduce you two, remember?”

Jasmine looks at Dalia in confusion, while Dalia tries to give her a very un-subtle meaningful look.

Jasmine turns back to look at Aladdin, who’s grinning at her like the first time he stole her hair pin.

“A pleasure to meet you, Ali,” Jasmine says.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Aladdin replies. “You look beautiful.”

Jasmine’s cheeks grow warm.

Aladdin leans in closer and whispers, “What happened to the dress you were trying on the other night?”

Memories flash through Jasmine’s mind: watching Dalia take the dress out earlier this evening, getting one look at it and struggling not to cry from the memories it stirred up, and finally putting on the first thing she could find. So instead of the orange and gold dress Aladdin saw her in – if she had known, she would have worn it, just for the way he’d look at her – she’s wearing a turquoise outfit, embroidered with peacock details.

“You already saw me in that,” Jasmine jokes.

Aladdin laughs. “So you knew I’d be coming?”

Jasmine shakes her head. As earnestly as she can, she says, “No, I had no idea. I didn’t even hope for it. I thought…how are you here?”

Music strikes up in the background. Aladdin’s eyes light up, and puts a hand on Jasmine’s elbow to guide her toward the dance floor. As they go, he leans down and whispers, “Dalia is writing to her family. She said they’ll be happy to claim a fake son, if it gets them one more tie to the ruler of Agrabah.”

“So you’re going to lie forever, to everyone?!” Jasmine whispers back. “That’s crazy!”

“Would you rather I not?” Aladdin asks.

It’s an earnest question. The two of them are just at the edge of the dance floor, where couples are starting to dance. It’s a slow rhythm, and the drum beats like a heartbeat reverberating through every surface in the room. Jasmine feels it in her ribs. Aladdin stares down at her, waiting for her verdict on the plan.

On him.

She knew the moment he showed up: she can’t turn away from a miracle. What they have is something real, and it’s worth fighting for.

“I said we would find a way,” Jasmine says. “I’m just glad it didn’t take until we were as old as I thought it would.”

Aladdin lets out a breath, his smile shaky. He doesn’t have the same aura as the other nobility here. There’s a humility and a humor to him, an ineffable lightness, that makes him stand out. Even if she had never met him, Jasmine would have been drawn to him the same way sunflowers angle themselves toward the sun.

“Now come on,” Aladdin says, “I want to put those dancing lessons to good use.”

He takes her hand and guides her onto the dance floor. The other courtiers happily part to allow the princess space. Jasmine picks up where they are in the dance immediately, but Aladdin hesitates for a few too many counts of the music.

As fluidly as she can, Jasmine grabs Aladdin’s hand as she’s moving her own, and she mutters the steps to him. He’s staring at his feet all the while.

But then a few more measures pass, and he looks up at her, a big grin on his face. He falls into the next step gracefully, like he’s done it a thousand times. It’s the same sequence Jasmine taught him out on her balcony. As the two of them dance together, perfectly in sync, Jasmine feels like she’s out on that balcony again. The lights, the voices in the background, and even the other dancers around them fade away. It’s just an empty courtyard, and her and Aladdin dancing while the music swells in her ears.

She’s going to fight for this. She realizes it with a certainty that reaches down into her bones and grabs hold of every single part of her. She’s been so willing to accept a fate that terrifies her, and for too long.

No more. She is the arbiter of her own fate. She will no longer bend her choices to suit the world. Her choice is Aladdin, and the rest of the world will just have to bend around that fact.

The music ends, and Aladdin is grinning down at her. His chest is heaving from the quick pace of the dance, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his brow. Jasmine doesn’t miss the way he glances down at her lips.

One of the princes steals her for the next dance, and another prince for the one after that, and again and again until Jasmine’s hair is matted with sweat. Every so often, she catches a glimpse of Aladdin at the edge of the dance floor, watching her with a smile.

When Jasmine finally begs a reprieve from the current prince, she finds her way to her father. He lifts his glass in cheers to Jasmine as she approaches. Jasmine stoops to kiss her father’s cheek.

“You’re enjoying yourself?” the sultan asks.

“I am,” she tells him. “I’ve danced enough for five evenings already.”

Her father chuckles. “You can’t blame these young men. They all seem very taken with you. But it seems to me you’re only taken with one of them.”

Jasmine’s cheeks grow warm. “Father?”

“The boy Dalia arrived with,” the sultan says. “Who is he?”

The lie slips easily, almost too easily, from Jasmine’s lips. “Her cousin, Ali. From a noble house of Sherabad.”

The sultan nods his head pensively. Jasmine is usually good at reading her father’s moods, but for once, she can’t tell what he’s thinking. She surveys the room, looking for Aladdin. She spots Dalia first, talking to Prince Anders. Dalia looks a bit nervous, and Jasmine wonders if Dalia is trying to secure a prince of her own.

There, over by the fountain, Jasmine spots Aladdin. He’s sitting by himself, looking around nervously. It makes Jasmine think of future parties, where she can take his arm and help him feel at ease. She imagines a whole future, a whole life, spreading out in front of them. It makes her smile.

“You’re not wrong, father,” Jasmine says. “Ali is a good man.”

The sultan looks up, surprise written on his face. “You just met him tonight.”

“Dalia has told me about him,” Jasmine says, and again, the lie is almost too easy. But the next part is the truth entire. “The moment we met…I just knew, somehow. I feel like I’ve been searching so desperately for something, and…there he is.”

Her father is quiet, deep in thought.

It’s worth fighting for, Jasmine reminds herself. She steels her courage, with her eyes still on the room, and she finishes by saying, “He may not be a prince, but he’s noble enough, and a good man. Perhaps that’s enough. Perhaps…looking just at princes has been too narrow. I could be just as happy with someone who isn’t a prince, and Agrabah just as secure.”

Her father still doesn’t speak. Jasmine looks down at him, but he isn’t looking at her. She swallows the desire to say more, to push him for some kind of reaction.

Finally, her father looks up, and he gives her a smile. He reaches for her hand and gives it a squeeze. “Enjoy the party, my dear. I have many things on my mind. Many things to consider.”

Jasmine nods, and she lets herself hope.

The evening is long, and she has to be a good host, if not a good future wife, to these princes. She dances, she makes conversation, and she smiles and nods appropriately. Finally, when the candles are starting to drip low and more people than not are sprawled on divans, Jasmine finds Aladdin at the edge of the room. He stands beside a railing, leaning one arm against it as he watches the party. He seems content. Jasmine smiles at him, tilting her head sideways over the railing to better look him in the eye.

“You seem as though you’ve enjoyed yourself,” she says.

“I got to see you,” Aladdin says, “That’s all I wanted.”

Jasmine blushes. He’s said far more obvious and profound things to her, and yet even the little things still make her heart race.

“I spoke to my father,” she says. “I may have suggested that he let me marry someone other than a prince.”

Aladdin raises an eyebrow. “And he went for it?”

“No, definitely not that soon. But he said he has a lot to consider. And he didn’t say no.”

Aladdin brightens. Jasmine can’t help but smile brighter, step a little closer. She can’t resist the pull of his joy.

Aladdin doesn’t speak. He just looks at Jasmine with pure affection in his eyes, and he reaches out a hand to grasp hers.

“If you’d like to steal my ring,” Jasmine says quietly, “You can return it tomorrow night.”

“Or during the day,” Aladdin replies. “I’m staying in the palace, as a guest of my cousin.”

“You’re staying here?”

He nods.

Jasmine laughs, at the simplicity of being able to just meet him somewhere without having to hide or sneak around. Of being able to meet in the daylight. The funny thing is, she hasn’t seen him in the daylight since the day they met.

“The garden beneath my balcony, then,” Jasmine says. “At noon.”

Aladdin lifts Jasmine’s hand to his lips and kisses it. “Noon.”


	2. Sunlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Aladdin says, 'I’d have no idea what I’m doing. Why can’t they just make you sultan?'
> 
> 'And you’ll be my doting husband, there just to hang on my arm and look handsome and raise the children?' Jasmine says.
> 
> 'Exactly. Especially the part about looking handsome.'"

The sun is blazing, and Jasmine is sweating under her gown. Noon was, admittedly, a bad idea. But despite the heat, Jasmine is giddy, and she keeps fidgeting as she waits for Aladdin to arrive. She sits on the edge of the fountain. The water gurgles behind her, and fish slap their tails against the surface of the water.

The garden around her is bursting with flowers: roses, dahlias, hibiscus, and a dozen others. The colors are bright as jewels, and the aroma is sweet in the air.

Then a rose appears in front of her, held in Aladdin’s hand. Jasmine turns, not bothering to hide her delight.

Aladdin stands behind her shoulder with a broad smile on his face. The rose he holds out is a dusty pink.

“Are you offering me a rose from my own garden?” Jasmine asks, with a laugh.

“I’ve also offered you your own jewelry,” Aladdin replies. “I don’t think I’ve actually given you anything yet that wasn’t already yours. I figured, why break the pattern now?”

Without waiting for a reply, he reaches up and fixes the rose so it rests just above Jasmine’s ear. He lets his fingertips trail along her cheek before he pulls his hand away.

Then he takes a step back and bows. “Princess.”

Jasmine stands and curtsies. “Ali. A pleasure to meet you again.”

Aladdin rises from his bow. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.”

“Not as long as I was expecting to wait for you.” The way she says it, it’s clear she isn’t talking about their meeting today.

She sits back down on the edge of the fountain. Aladdin does too. Their knees are angled toward each other, almost close enough to brush together.

“I forgot how pretty your eyes are in the daytime,” Aladdin says.

Jasmine blushes. She could say the same about Aladdin. It’s not just his eyes, either. Looking at him in the daylight, she has a renewed appreciation for just how attractive he is: strong jawline, a hint of stubble, and the small bit of his chest showing where his shirt is partly open. It’s enough to make Jasmine swoon in a way that’s definitely not from the desert heat.

“I hope you enjoyed yourself last night,” Jasmine says. “I’m sorry I couldn’t spend more time with you, but the princes –”

“I get it,” Aladdin assures her. “You have to play the good host, so no one’s upset when I swoop in and make you fall immediately in love with me.”

Jasmine wants to give a cheeky reply to that, especially the word “immediately.” But wasn’t it?

“If my father does let me marry you,” Jasmine says, “We’re going to have a lot of very unhappy countries on our hands.”

“That sounds like the sultan’s problem,” Aladdin says.

“Which would be you.”

Aladdin’s eyebrows furrow. He opens his mouth to protest, and then he looks into the distance, as if doing some mental math. Jasmine can see him putting the pieces together in his head.

Finally, he looks at her with a, “Huh?”

“Father wants me to marry a prince, because my husband will become sultan someday,” Jasmine says slowly. She had thought that was obvious.

Apparently not.

Aladdin has a finger in the air, as if he wants to point something out. His mouth is hanging slightly open.

“Are you all right?” Jasmine asks. “I can see how that would be…a lot to take in.”

Aladdin nods, his mouth still open in shock.

“I would help you through it, obviously,” Jasmine says, with a laugh. She reaches up to Aladdin’s jaw to prompt him to shut his mouth. “And watch out, or a fly might find its way in there.”

“Help is putting it mildly,” Aladdin says. “I’d have no idea what I’m doing. Why can’t they just make you sultan?”

“And you’ll be my doting husband, there just to hang on my arm and look handsome and raise the children?” Jasmine says.

“Exactly. Especially the part about looking handsome.”

“Naturally.”

They laugh, but Aladdin grows serious a moment later. “Really, though, why can’t you inherit the throne?”

“Because,” Jasmine says, with a bitter smile, “As my father has told me too many times, it’s never been done in the thousand years of Agrabah’s history. And as we all know, there’s never a first time for anything.”

Aladdin smiles sympathetically. He reaches for Jasmine’s hand and lifts it to his lips. Only after he kisses it, though, does he look around nervously.

“Oh, um, should I not…how much is appropriate with a princess?” Aladdin asks. “With people watching, I mean?”

“Probably more restraint than we’ve had,” Jasmine says. She thinks of the kisses they shared two nights ago, and she feels the sun get a few degrees hotter. “A lot more restraint.”

“Should I not have…?”

“The hand kiss is probably safe,” Jasmine says. “But more than that…”

Aladdin’s eyes darken, and he looks down at Jasmine’s lips. She knows he’s thinking of the same moment.

“And if your father lets you marry me,” Aladdin asks, “What would be appropriate then?”

“Far more,” Jasmine says. “At least after we married. But that’s a big if, and a long way off if it does happen. Royal weddings don’t happen overnight, which means we’d be stuck with what’s appropriate for a betrothed couple for a long time.”

“How long?”

“Months.”

Aladdin splutters. “What would we do with months?”

Jasmine she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. She scoots just that little bit closer and lays her hand back over Aladdin’s. “What would you want to do?”

It reminds her of the night on her balcony, when they talked about what they would do if they ran away together. But this time, somehow, it doesn’t seem so out of reach. There isn’t the same undercurrent of sadness, of impossibility.

They sit on the edge of the fountain, and together they imagine what their life would be like. Adventures to have, things to see, places to explore. They keep having to remember to restrain themselves from getting too close, touching too much. Jasmine wants to nestle herself in Aladdin’s arms while they talk, and he keeps having to pull back from caressing her face. Neither of them can stop staring at the other’s lips.

The sun tracks the time that passes, curving across a sky so hot, it’s more white than blue. The shadows grow long and the light orange. The flower in Jasmine’s hair starts to wilt.

They part only when Hakim appears in the doorway. He’s silent until Jasmine notices him. Jasmine and Aladdin both stand, making a point to put several feet between them.

“Hakim,” Jasmine says.

“Princess,” Hakim says, bowing. “Your father requests your presence in his study.”

“Thank you, Hakim.” Jasmine turns to Aladdin. “Until tomorrow?”

Aladdin’s eyes flick over to Hakim; the calculation in his head is obvious. In the end, he must decide it’s worth the gamble. He leans in and kisses Jasmine’s cheek, whispering, “Until tomorrow.”

Goosebumps spread all over Jasmine’s arms. She follows after Hakim, but she looks back, her eyes lingering on Aladdin as long as she can.

***

Hakim knocks on the door of the sultan’s study. When the sultan calls back, Hakim opens lets Jasmine in. The door shuts behind her.

In the evenings, the sultan’s study is dim, lit by too few lamps on the walls. Jasmine has gotten after her father more than once for it, concerned about his eyesight. She’s about to now, given that he seems to be reading.

Then she realizes what he’s reading. She recognizes that scroll, with its green and gold embellishments around the edges.

It’s the laws of Agrabah. Based on what Jasmine can read upside down, her father is looking at the laws about succession.

“Father,” Jasmine says breathlessly. She gives a polite curtsy.

Her father smiles fondly at her. He reaches out a hand, and Jasmine takes it, coming closer to her father.

“My dear,” he says. “I have been thinking. Before I sent him to fetch you, Hakim told me you spent the afternoon with Ali.”

His words give nothing away, but his smile makes her hope. Or perhaps it’s meant to cushion the blow of what’s going to follow. Jasmine doesn’t dare hope, but at the same time, she can feel luck on her side. She wants so badly for her father to say the words, she doesn’t even dare think them.

“We’ve been searching for a husband for you for quite some time now,” the sultan says. “I’ve been worried you wouldn’t find someone you care for. I worry about you, Jasmine. Your happiness, your safety. I worry about the safety of Agrabah, too.

“But perhaps, there is some truth to what you said last night. Perhaps a prince isn’t necessary for all of that.”

Jasmine can’t breathe. She doesn’t dare speak a word, afraid of tipping her father’s mind one way or the other.

“I must speak to him, obviously,” the sultan says. “You say he is a good man. I would like to know for myself, if I am trusting my daughter and my kingdom to him. But this law, that you must marry a prince…I think I ought to do away with it, don’t you?”

Jasmine lets out a sob, but a delighted one. She’s smiling so broad it hurts, and the sight of her father blurs through her tears. She rushes forward to hug him. His beard bristles against her cheek, like it did when she was a small child. She hugs her father so little these days. They fight too much these days.

But the things she fights him on, they’re the things that matter to her. The things that are worth it, if all those arguments brought her to this moment.

“Thank you, baba,” Jasmine says.

Her father pats her on the back. “I want to see you happy, my dear. And I haven’t approved the marriage yet. But…”

Jasmine pulls back, wiping her cheeks. “He’s a good man. You’ll like him, Father. I promise.”

“Go, then,” her father says, with a smile. “Tell him to dine with me tonight, so I can find out for myself what he’s like.”

“Thank you,” Jasmine says. She can’t stop saying the words. “Thank you, Father.”

Once out in the hallway, she leans back against the wall and rests her head against it, smiling up at the ceiling. She can’t contain her giddy laughter.

She and Aladdin get to have forever together.

More importantly, she got to choose this for herself. All of the things she’s been dreading for years – a husband she doesn’t like, a husband who won’t let her share in his rule, a husband she didn’t even choose – none of it has to come true. Every single worry she’s been carrying suddenly falls away, and she feels light enough that she might float right into the sky.

She has to restrain herself from running through the palace. A princess can be giddy and delighted, but a princess does not run. She eventually finds Aladdin, back in the garden where she left him. Prince Anders is there, too. The two men are standing far apart, looking at each other with a fair amount of suspicion.

Jasmine doesn’t get a chance to hear what they’re saying, though. They break off as soon as they hear her coming, and both look delighted to see her. Jasmine only has eyes for Aladdin, though. She has to remind herself to acknowledge Prince Anders. Her father’s permission to marry Aladdin isn’t final yet. More importantly, it’s not public yet.

But once the pleasantries have been made, Jasmine turns to Aladdin and says, “Ali, my father asked me to tell you that he wishes you to dine with him tonight.”

Aladdin’s eyes widen. Jasmine tries to give him a reassuring look, but she can’t let anything more than that slip, not with Prince Anders here.

“How fortuitous for you, Ali,” Prince Anders says to Aladdin. “You seem to have made quite the impression.”

Aladdin doesn’t reply. The same shock as the realization of being sultan one day has set in, and he seems unlikely to recover soon.

“My father is a pleasant man,” Jasmine tells Aladdin. “You’ll like him.”

Relax, she tries to tell him with her eyes. The other thing she can’t say: come to my balcony tonight, so she knows how it went. She suspects her father might call her to his study afterward to tell her his verdict, but he may also want to sleep on it. She doesn’t want to spend all night waiting and wondering.

“By the way,” Jasmine says, “I seem to have lost a hair pin. If you happen to find it, would you return it to me?”

Aladdin nods, looking less worried now. Jasmine trusts he got the hint.

Prince Anders replies, “Of course, Princess. I should be honored to return your hair pin. I shall comb the gardens for it.”

“Thanks,” Jasmine replies tightly.

She gives Aladdin one last reassuring smile before she leaves the garden. As she heads to her rooms, she feels as though she’s floating. She can see her whole life spreading out before her, full of light and love and joy.

Not for the first time, she takes to her balcony once night falls, waiting for her love to return.


End file.
